


Castling The King

by Elsinore_and_Inverness



Category: Richard II - Shakespeare
Genre: Chess, Conflict, Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 15:53:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12135867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsinore_and_Inverness/pseuds/Elsinore_and_Inverness
Summary: Richard II and Henry Bolingbroke play chess





	Castling The King

The king gazed at the board intently. Or at least he appeared to. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, something of a feat of engineering in itself, given the elaborate, multi-layered nature of his sleeves. The table was carved out of stone and he shifted uncomfortably every few seconds.  
He was losing. He’d taken out a few high-value pieces slightly earlier, but had evidently failed to see the defenses that had been laid in prevention of this. As things stood he had considerably fewer pieces left and they seemed to have been herded together by an arrangement of pawns.

At the other end of the board Henry Bolingbroke was concentrating. He was making a gamble. It wasn’t that he doubted his ability to win the game, quite the opposite in fact. This wasn’t due to any particular prowess on his own part, truth be told he was little better than mediocre. But his cousin was hopeless. He was easily distracted and didn’t seem to be able to string more than two moves together. Henry suspected that the only reason Richard played chess at all was because he thought the board and pieces were pretty. He liked the feel of precious metals and cool gemstones, the weight of the pieces in his hand. The illusion of power.

It was their grandfather’s chess set. Plantagenet kings and queens, of course, had been playing the game for as long as anyone could remember, and Edward had been particularly fond of it. Almost as fond as he was of hunting or gambling, Henry recollected. 

Henry was playing with red pieces, while Richard had selected green. The board was silver with a sapphire or garnet in each corner.  
Henry finally shook his head and slid his rook down the right-hand side of the board, putting Richard into check.   
His cousin glanced up at him, doleful and wide-eyed.

Henry shrugged innocently.

Richard sat up, to survey the game from a distance, and relieve his elbows of the stone table. His long sleeves gradually un-crumpled themselves. It had been a long game. A hand to his mouth, he was an oddly cherubic image of reconsideration. 

Internally, Henry was growing increasingly worried. He had been on the receiving end of Richard’s temper often enough to know that his semblance of peaceful nature could evaporate in an instant.

Richard picked up the green king. And moved it two spaces. Out of the way of both Bolingbroke’s rook and his bishop.

‘The King’s Leap?’ Henry asked. It was an amusing name, he thought, perhaps better suited to his cousin’s reaction to being presented with a spider or a toad. The chess move itself had been in use since at least the previous century, but he wasn’t sure Richard would have remembered it. He was glad he had, though, it had been a close call. ‘Are you running away?’ It was a gentle mock, earning itself a cool stare from the English king.

'The intent of the game is the preservation of the monarch.’  
’Bien sur.’

In the next few moves Richard found himself gaining the upper hand, and soon enough-

'Checkmate.’

’Le roi est mort.’ Henry observed.

’Vive le roi.’ Richard completed. ’Le roi est victorieux.’

Richard reached across the board and rather ostentatiously picked up the red king and added it to the head of the row of captured pieces on the table before him.

He stared at the game, tracing Henry’s last few moves in his mind. 'Wait a moment…’ His expression darkened. 'You could have captured- You must have seen-’ His voice dropped to a whisper, an accusatory scowl twisting the young man’s lips. 'You let me win.’

Richard was on his feet now, physically trembling, his hand hovering inches above the game, poised to sweep the stone and metal pieces onto the floor, or upend the silver jewel-studded board. But he froze, almost transfixed by the light glinting off of the beautiful things in front of him.   
He shook his head and glared at his cousin. Henry’s eyes darted from side-to-side, aware of the guards standing just outside the room, equally aware of the cupboard just across the room where he had hid for hours during the peasant’s revolt in '81.

To Richard this looked furtive and guilty. He thought of hitting his cousin, but considered that Henry could probably overpower him in a fight as easily as he could at chess. The thought made him angry enough to actually strike out at him. Henry caught Richard’s hand midair, instinctively, careful not to actually injure the king. 

Their hands hung entwined together in the air for a moment, Henry’s placating, Richard’s tense and shaking.

Richard dug in his long fingernails, almost accidentally, and Henry leapt backward, yelping in pain.

Richard turned away with a small hiccuping sob, eyes burning with saltwater.

He left Henry alone with a finished chess game and five half-moon indentations on his right palm.


End file.
